


Death Talks

by FudgingPastry



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Death Knight, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FudgingPastry/pseuds/FudgingPastry
Summary: Karroro, a vulpera death knight, talks to his friend Haziba about death. Takes place during the events of BFA, so Acherus is above the Broken Isles.
Kudos: 2





	Death Talks

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing some random scenes with my World of Warcraft characters and this was one of the first ones I wrote. Depending on how this is received, I may post more of them.

Karroro paused at the death gate, its edges whispering familiar nonsense, beckoning him to go through and return to his tasks away from Acherus. But he hesitated at the billowing edges, eyes drawn to a figure propped up on one of the railings, looking down at the sea. Karroro glanced at the gate, then closed it and stepped quietly to his friend. Haziba didn’t speak as he approached; he didn’t even look as though he heard him come up. Karroro jumped up on the edge of the railing, sitting down so he could be at the troll’s eye level. He remained silent, his gaze shifting to Haziba once to check his melancholy expression. Something was bothering him, Karroro knew immediately. He knew Haziba’s expressions well enough by now to tell that. But why, that was harder to answer. Haziba was often sad, sad in ways different than Karroro felt. He was better now, at least that was what he promised Karroro. Going to Zandalar had helped, even with the tensions the Fourth War brought. The vulpera knew some things about loa and the importance they held in troll culture. He even knew some loa from the stories the Tortollans told, but he didn’t feel much worth in those gods.

But Haziba had many things to be sad about. All of the old death knights did. Corpses as they were, brought back to life unwillingly to fight in a war unending. So Karroro remained silent, waiting for Haziba to either speak his sadness into the air, or turn away and return to his own duties. 

“Do you think,” Haziba started with a tilt of his head in his friend’s direction. “That if I jumped off here, I would die?”

So that was it.

Karroro shrugged, then pointed at a nearby outcropping of rocks below the floating fortress. “If you aimed for those, probably. But your spirit would release and you would either come right back here or end up somewhere else on the continent and it would take you a full day or two to get back to your body. Or maybe some poor sap will come by and resurrect your corpse.”

“Maybe I could just stay there. Forever.”

Karroro eyed him, then let his gaze drift back to the horizon. “Your spirit releases eventually. And you would get bored standing around waiting for time to end. We can’t die, Haziba. Not forever. We’ll always come back until the universe decides that it’s had enough of us.”

Haziba fell quiet again and Karroro waited. He didn’t speak again for a while and Karroro didn’t pry. He did start rubbing his scars as he thought. 

“I like you, Karroro. I like that you don’t tell me it’s silly to think like this. That you don’t ask why I would think about dying.” Haziba wasn’t looking at him again, but that was fine. He found it easier to talk when he didn’t have to stare at someone’s face for them to believe he was listening. Easier to listen too.

“Why would I?” Karroro asked. “It doesn’t matter.”

Haziba’s silence this time was… strange. Haziba had often grown emotional when they talked like this. Less emotional than Wilthius, but Wilthius was a multitude of erratic emotions held together with a bit of twine and flesh in the shape of a man. Or, what was once a man.

“Karroro, do you know how many people I’ve killed?”

“No. And I don’t think you do either.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But-” Haziba stopped when Karroro held up his hand. His gaze turned to Haziba, ice cold eyes showing the warmth of his compassion. Sad eyes met sad eyes.

“You’ve killed thousands of people. So have I. So have our friends. So have our enemies. We’ve killed thousands of people and we’ll kill thousands more. That’s the way of our world and as unfortunate as it is, our reality will keep us killing. And, one day, we may end up being killed ourselves. And no amount of resurrection will bring us back. No amount of healing will save us. Or maybe we’ll die in our beds, with our loved ones, die in our sleep after our work here is done.”

Haziba waited for more, but Karroro didn’t offer up. After a period of heavy silence, he sighed and patted the railing, pulling back from the edge. Karroro turned back, watching as he opened a death gate. The troll lifted his gaze and beckoned Karroro to join him. “I promised Irrtraz that I’d make sure Wilthius didn’t actually poison himself drinking this time. You wanna come?”

Karroro pressed his tongue to his teeth weighing his own duties against potentially seeing a drunk, naked corpse dancing on a table again. He snickered and grinned. “Sure.” He jumped back into the fortress and passed through the death gate. As he passed Haziba, he saw the small smile breaking through his sadness.


End file.
